The Violinist
by The Little Ninja
Summary: *Based on the 1989 movie* Kirina Day lost her love of music after the horrific death of her mother Christine. However, there is one man who can and will bring it back. And kill anyone who stands in his way. *WILL CONTAIN VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL CONTENT*
1. Prologue

**Author's Note-** This story will be base off of the 1989 version of _The Phantom of the Opera_. If you haven't seen this movie, then there will be some things in the story that you won't understand. If you're interested in watching it, let me know and I'll gladly send you a link.

For those that have seen the movie, then you'll understand pretty much everything in here. This is set 19 years after the events of Phantom of the Opera, where we see the violinist. The way I figured it out was that Christine must have been 20 years old, so somewhere in that time, she met her husband Colin, got married, and had her daughter when she was 22. Hopefully, that made sense. ^^;

And just so you know, yes there will more than likely be a bittersweet ending, but there's gonna be lots of blood and a couple lemons before that happens. And good music. But mostly blood.

So without further ado, I present to you, _The Violinist_. Enjoy!

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><p>The smell of newly bloomed apple blossoms mixed with the smell of rain pervaded the air as a young woman made her way from her car and up the small hill, carefully navigating the rocky steps with a bouquet of red roses in one hand. Glancing over her shoulder, she suddenly wished that the cemetery <em>hadn't <em>been on a hill. The steps were still wet from the recent rain storm and as a result were quite slippery. She cursed the fact that she had chosen to wear boots that day. One missed step would result in a rather nasty fall.

Thankfully, no such thing happened and the steps held good even after years of use. She had finally made it to the top in one piece after making a short climb that felt like it went on and on. She took a moment to catch her breath and stared in the direction of the rows of tombstones just ahead. How many years had it been now...

'It's now or never," she whispered, exhaling and resuming her slow journey to the old rusty cemetery gate, brown/red hair floating behind her as a gentle breeze blew not only the scent of flowers and water, but tiny pink petals in her direction. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she passed rows of headstones adorned with colorful flower arrangements, and as she walked, she could have sworn that she heard the voice of the one she had come to see.

A small smile crept across her light features as she came to a stop before a headstone carved into the shape of an angel. The angel was almost as tall as she was, the divine features seemingly bearing a resemblance to those of whom she guarded. Dark eyes left those of the angel's to the name carved into the base. There, in elegant writing, was Christine Day's name- her beloved mother. A small tear fell down her left cheek, soon followed by another on the opposite as she slowly knelt to the ground beneath her, brushing away the dirt that had collected over the past month and pulling away the weeds before she finally laid the roses in front of the angel, arranging them carefully as long, strong fingers touched each one gently.

A prolonged sigh escaped her lips as she allowed more tears to falls from her eyes, ignoring them for the time being.

'Hi Mom," she whispered. 'How's the weather up there?' The young lady almost choked on the words as she hid her face for a moment. 'I'm **NOT **going to cry," she proclaimed fiercely before looking back at her mother's grave. Despite having said she would not cry, tears still fell down her soft cheeks, growing in number until she could take it no more. Once again, she hid her face in her hands just as her eyes welled up once more, quietly crying as she tried to force herself to continue speaking to her mother, as was her custom when visiting this peaceful place. But this time... this time, something was different, something that she couldn't put her finger on. Perhaps... it was because she had spent her first birthday without her mother, or maybe it was because she had gone through so much the past months. Whatever the reason, she swallowed hard and looked back up at the angel who resembled her mother in so many ways.

'Mom," she began, wiping her tears away with a long sleeve. 'There's so much that I want to tell you, but I don't know where to start. I don't know if you will be angry or if you will-"

_Just start from the beginning, _a soothing voice within her said. _Ease your way into it. It will be much easier._ She took a deep breath and settled herself on the ground.

'Mom, I hope you're not too busy to hear this.'


	2. Welcome to Williamsburg

**Author's Note- **Right! Well, before I get this started, once again I would like to encourage you to watch the 1989 version of _The Phantom of the Opera _before you start this story, if you haven't seen it already. There are parts which will include some references from the movie. If you would like to see it, just message me and I will be more than happy to send the link to you.

Also, if you would like to review my story, go right ahead! I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing and I will not view your review as being harmful. Rather, I will see it as a way to learn from any mistakes I have made. For instance, if someone thinks that I could have explained something a little more, then I'll learn from that and explain something a little better.

Enough chat though. ON WITH THE SHOW!

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><p><em>One Year Ago...<em>

The weather outside was cold and chilly, the rain soaking the world outside gently. While it was beautiful to behold and to see, it was also notorious for making the inside of a bus humid and uncomfortably sticky. Strange that this was not the case in the mostly empty city bus for it was not crowded with commuting crowds; rather, there were only about eleven people in all, including the young girl that sat towards the front of the bus.

Completely oblivious to everything around her, she sat quietly in her seat, a beautiful violin melody playing through her headphones and making her forget the world around her as she played Angry Birds on her tablet. Long fingers moved smoothly over the screen, her right arm holding the tablet steady. However, for a moment, the long sleeve and glove she wore parted and she was couldn't help but choke back her tears as she saw the scarred flesh that reminded her of the accident that had taken her mother's life.

She paused the game and closed her eyes for a long moment, refusing to allow the tears that had welled in her eyes to fall. Even though it had been almost a year since the accident, she still didn't see herself getting on with her life anytime soon. Once she was sure that her tears were gone for the time being, she opened her eyes once more and turned off the tablet before replacing it in her tan bag. _Every single time,_ she thought, arranging her sleeve and glove so that her scarred flesh was once again hidden from view. Once again she looked outside, leaning her forehead against the cold glass, watching her breath form a misty circle. Anyone looking at her could clearly see that her mind was elsewhere.

In truths, it was. Since her father had written to invite her to live with him in Brooklyn, she couldn't help but feel guilty for leaving behind the town that she had grown up in; Indianapolis. It was there that she had grown to love everything that life had to offer, grown to know no fear, and most of all, had grown to love music. She didn't need to question where it had come from as a small smile crossed her face. Her mother had been an accomplished opera singer and her father a talented pianist and song writer. They had both hoped that she would grow to become both, but her heart was really set on one thing; becoming a violinist. That smile on her face grew larger as she remembered the day that she had told her mother of her plans-

_'You want to be a what?" Christine asked, her jaw dropping as she listened to her daughter's words. The young girl before her nodded, the broad grin on her face never fading. _

_'I want to be a violinist, Mom." she proclaimed proudly. Christine stared at her daughter's fair features, not knowing what to say. _

_'Mom?" her daughter asked, grin suddenly fading from her face. 'Is something wrong?" Christine blinked her eyes a couple times and released a long sigh. _

_'Sweetheart," Christine began. 'Playing a violin takes a lot of work and commitment. It's not an easy instrument to play." she paused, seeing her daughter's face start to fall. Quickly, she added, 'But if it's really what you want to do, then you will have nothing but support and encouragement on my part." _

And that was what she had; constant support and constant encouragements from her mother. After a neighbor allowed her to practice with his violin, she almost instantly learned how to play. But, just as her mother had said, it was very difficult to learn and at times quite frustrating. And always, it was her mother who kept urging her forward. Whenever she felt as though she could not go on playing, her mother would encourage her to continue. When her fingers were cramped from playing, her mother would massage her hands and tell her how proud she was of her progress. And whenever she grudgingly returned the violin to its rightful owner, her mother would always promise that one day she would have a violin of her own to play.

The bus suddenly screeched to a halt, drawing her out of her thoughts. _Looks like this is it, _she thought, seeing her father's familiar face smiling back at her. Quickly, she gathered her tan bag and backpack before standing and following an elderly woman off the bus. Not giving her a chance to step off the last step, her father rushed forward into the drizzling rain and took hold of his daughter in a tight hug.

'There's my princess!" he exclaimed, as she returned his hug. 'How was your ride?"

'It was OK," she replied in a soft voice. 'Long and boring, pretty much." Her father laughed and set her back to her feet, ruffling her hair.

'Well, riding buses is never comfortable, even if it's a tour bus." he said, putting an arm around her shoulder and leading her to a waiting car. She shrugged her shoulders in response, following her father to the black Mercedes on the curb. As they walked, she took a moment to see how Colin, her father, had changed over the time she had spent away from him. His dark hair was starting to show signs of aging gray, as did his full beard that reached from the left side of his face to the other, and she was starting to notice some wrinkles on his face. Other than his new glasses, he hadn't changed. Even his laid back style was still as she remembered.

It was looking at him that reminded her just how much she resembled her mother and father. Like her mother, she had dark hair and a naturally light complexion that made everyone ask whether she was feeling well and a short stature. From her father came her dark colored eyes and her talents with woodwinds and strings.

It wasn't hard at all to see that she was the daughter of Colin Galloway and Christine Day.

A cold wind suddenly blew open her jacket and she was brought back harshly to the bitter present. Cursing inwardly about the horribly cold winters of New York, she wrapped her favorite jacket tighter around her frame and reaching to open the passenger side door, the handle wet and cool to the touch. She took a brief moment to wipe off the wetness on her jeans before getting inside, warm air greeting her. Once the door was closed once more, she rubbed her hands together to warm them, breathing in the scent of a freshly cleaned interior. Just as she was putting her bags into the backseat, she was greeted with the sounds of something squeaking loudly.

Surprised, she cautiously peered around the driver's seat, noticing a colorful box sitting on the floorboard. Easing herself from her seat, dark eyes peered into the box' open top, she had to smile at the sight before her. There, peering back at her with equally dark eyes, was a baby guinea pig with dark colored fur. The poor thing looked so lonely and sad sitting there by himself, and there was something in that adorable face that made her want to pick him up and hold him. Slowly, she began to pet the small creature gently and picked it up carefully one he accepted her touch.

At first he jumped and wheeked in protest, but eventually calmed down as she held him against her chest and petted him softly.

'I see you've met our new friend, Freddy," her father said as he finally got into the warm car. She looked up in surprise and nodded, the tiny guinea pig called Freddy gurgling happily against her chest. 'I thought you'd like to have a little friend to keep you company in your new room. I've already got his new home set up, so all he needs now is someone to take good care of him."

'I will," she promised, just as little Freddy was touching his soft little nose to hers. Colin smiled at his daughter and leaned over to kiss the top of her head as he put the car into drive.

'It's good to have you home, Kirina." he murmured. Kirina smiled and looked over to him.

'It's good to be home," she replied. _But a home will never be complete without Mom, _she thought quietly as they passed a sign that reminded her that she was now miles away from her old home;

Welcome To Williamsburg

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><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Whew! Finally! I was so close to not being able to finish that chapter because I was in a block. But it's up, thank God. I'm thinking that I'm going to start posting new chapters every Saturday so I have an entire week to write that chapter, have it proof read and up for all you Phans out there. Some of you have asked why it takes me so long to put up new chapters. Because I want to make sure I have everything in the chapter that I planned to put there and make sure it all flows smoothly. If I don't like what I've written, I won't post it because you all deserve to read only the best of my works, not my worse. =)

For those that have favorited the story and added me to your favorite author list, thank you! I've always liked it when people take the time to read my stories and love them as much as I love writing them.

So what will Williamsburg have in store for Kirina and little Freddy the Guinea Pig? And what exactly happened to her arm that makes her cry and hide it with a glove and long sleeves? We'll find out next Saturday! =)


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